A Dauntless Man
by Aquaholic
Summary: Everyone thought that Norrington went to Tortuga to become a dissolute drunk who was mourning the loss of his crew, his ship, and his life, but nothing is as it seems with the finely honed, double-edged sword that is James Norrington.
1. Chapter 1: A Storm like No Other

**A Dauntless Man**

by Aquaholic

I would like to thank Thresh the Sky for their wonderful artwork of DMC Norrington. The emotion captured in Norrington's eyes just blew me away and was right on the money in terms of what I was trying to capture in this story. You can view the artwork here: art/Pirates-of-the-Caribbean-Norrington-312478840

 **HMS** _ **Dauntless**_ **–** off the coast of Mauritania, Africa

Commodore James Norrington shook the rain off of his weather coat as he closed the door to his cabin. The pressure gauge on his barometer had slid past 882 millibars, the lowest marker. The hurricane intensified and the waves were rising higher and higher. _Dauntless_ was listing badly to port despite the crew working through all watches at the pumps. They had also lost their canvas and laid a hawser out with a spar on the windward side. It kept them from sinking but for how long? Norrington cursed himself. He had already lost the _Interceptor_ not three weeks ago to _bloody pirates_! His promotion to commodore was starting to look like some cruel joke. The ship rocked again. Right. He had a crew to save. He had to give the order to abandon ship.

The door to his cabin flew open and First Lieutenant Charles Faraday was thrown to the floor. He found Norrington's hand outstretched and he grabbed it. "Not the most graceful way to make an entrance, lieutenant," he said, dryly.

"Yes, sir. Mister Renley wishes to know if you have made your decision, sir."

The commodore nodded. "Issue the order to abandon ship, lieutenant. See to it that the boats have as much food and medicine as can be spared."

"Yes, sir!" The lieutenant shoved the door open with his shoulder. He held his tricorne with one hand to keep the wind from blowing it off.

Norrington was proud of them. Several of his midshipmen and lieutenants were quite green. They had replaced the men who were murdered by the undead pirates of Isla de Muerta. Despite everything they had handled it superbly.

Just then his thoughts were interrupted by the sounds of whimpering. He walked to the other side of cabinet and saw a midshipman balled in an upright position. The boy was around thirteen or fourteen and his teeth were chattering uncontrollably. His face was familiar to Norrington and he tried to recall the midshipman's name. He knelt so that he was eye-level with the boy and braced his hand against the cabinet as the stern rolled again. "Midshipman Brae, isn't it?" he asked

Brae looked at him and scooted further back into the wall, "Y-yes, s-sir. I-I'm sorry I a-abandoned my post, sir. W-when I saw the wave wash two of the midshipman out to sea I w-was afraid, sir. I-I'm s-sorry."

Norrington remembered that. A rouge wave washed over the decks and took two midshipmen and two sailors to their deaths. Yet even now the poor lad feared punishment. In normal circumstances the discipline would be given. Mister Brae needed to be calm for what was ahead and he would have to help him regain his composure. He fixed his eyes on the midshipman and his voice was calm. "Mister Brae, I am going to need you to do something very difficult but I suspect that you have it within you to accomplish the task."

The boy nodded, "Yes, sir."

"I've noticed that you have very keen vision, especially when you are aloft. You've been able to notice coasts and ships far off even when some of my lieutenants couldn't spot them?"

"That really ticks them off when I do that, sir. They call me 'Hawkeyes' because of it."

Norrington smiled inwardly and noticed that the boy's teeth had stopped chattering. "I would take that as a high compliment, Mister Brae. I have a special mission that I need you to accomplish with Lieutenant Faraday. It will require you to act with the utmost bravery and courage. We are going to abandon ship and I will need your acute vision to help us once we get into the boats. Your skills will be tested to their limits but I have every confidence that you will prevail."

Brae looked at him with clear eyes. "I won't disappoint you, sir."

The commodore smiled. "I know you won't." He stood up and offered a hand to the midshipman. It was a good thing because the ship rolled violently to starboard and Norrington was able to keep both of them from crashing onto the floor. They walked to the cabin doors. The commodore had to lean against the door to open it. The wind screamed and blasted rain into the cabin. He called in First Lieutenant Faraday. "Commodore, the men have readied the launches and set as many victuals and medicines in each," reported the lieutenant as he dodged into the cabin.

"Very good, lieutenant. I have a special mission for you and Midshipman Brae."

"What are our orders, sir?"

Norrington put his sextant, logs, maps, and pencils in a duffel bag and handed them to the lieutenant. "Your orders are to find the nearest port and relay our current heading to the local office of His Majesty's Royal Navy. Above all else," he looked intently at Faraday and Brae, "you are to use your wits and training to survive. Is that clear?"

"Yes, sir!" they said in unison.

"One last thing," added the Norrington as he slid his weather coat off. "Take this for warmth. Do take good care of it for I should like it in the same condition that it was given." He gave the coat to Mister Brae. The commodore was glad to see that the young man had collected himself and shown no sign of his earlier terror. Norrington often found that sometimes instilling trust in his charges was all that was required to strengthen their resolve.

He pushed on the door and the three of them fought the headwind as they made their way to the nearest boat. Six seamen were already seated with their oars ready to pass. Lieutenant Faraday took his place at the stern of the launch. Brae sat by the tiller. He took one final look at the commodore. The wig was blown out so much that it looked like a bird's nest. His tricorne, however, seemed to defy the wind. Everything else about Norrington's bearing bespoke calm and assurance and that gave the midshipman the confidence he needed. "Godspeed, gentlemen," said Norrington as the launch was lowered into the water. "Feather the oars!" shouted Faraday as the launch reached the sea. The sailors complied, adjusting the oar blades so they would not catch the wind. Soon they were carried away from the ship.

Norrington returned to the quarterdeck to relieve his helmsman, Mr. Stephens.

"Get into one of the launches, Mr. Stephens. I'll follow you shortly."

"But sir!" protested the helmsmen.

"That's an _order_ , Mister Stephens!"

As Stephens turned to descend the stairs he was fixed to the spot by what he saw. The darkness of the clouds and ocean had concealed it at first, but the fierce winds and currents revealed their monstrous creation. "Mary Mother of God! Rouge wave afore, commodore! And sixty-footer at least." He ran back to the wheel to help Norrington turn the ship even though he knew it was already too late. Seamen cut the boats loose into the water and jumped after them. The prow was rising at an unnatural angle. Wood creaked in protest and the cannons could be heard straining against the chains below decks. Yard arms and booms swung wildly about.

"An honor serving with you, sir," said Stephens as both he and Norrington tightened their arms between the spokes of the wheel. "And you as well, Mister Stephens," said Norrington.

Higher and higher the _Dauntless_ went until she was almost vertical. An almighty roar of water came over them, even drowning out the wind. Then everything went dark.

Two days later

Mister Brae's spyglass scanned the horizon until it found something that looked like broken wood fingers bobbing out of the ocean. "Wreckage off the starboard bow, lieutenant!"

"Make haste, men," ordered Faraday. "There may be survivors in need of help." They adjusted their course to intercept.

Faraday felt his breath quicken as he spotted three splintered masts bobbing in the ocean like teeth. Then the bodies floated by: midshipmen, seamen, gunners, helmsmen, marines. Some were face down and some were face up with expressions frozen in horror or calm acceptance. "May God have mercy on their souls and may they rest in peace," uttered one of the sailors. Several others crossed themselves. Brae remembered Norrington's calm in the storm and focused his eyes away from the bodies and further off. A glint of gold lettering caught his attention. He took one of the oars and pulled the piece of wood towards the launch. It was part of the ship's name plate. "Lieutenant!" Faraday saw the name plate and grabbed it. He wiped the seaweed off of it and placed it on one of the benches. A second piece floated by and the retrieved it.

They searched for over an hour, calling out, but the only sound to greet them was the sound of the oars against the water.

A deep racking, cough caught their attention. Brae searched through his spyglass to locate the sound. "Lieutenant! I believe it's the commodore, sir, amidships." They adjusted their heading again and, indeed, found Commodore Norrington holding onto a yard arm. They called out to him and pulled the boat next to the yard arm. Loose strands of brown hair were matted against a bloody gash on his forehead and his great coat looked as if it had passed through Hell several times. They helped him onto the boat wrapping his weather coat around him. "Have you spotted anyone el…" his voice dropped as he saw the broken name plates on one of the benches. He sat down next to it, put one of the pieces on his lap and lowered his head for a few moments. When he looked up the lieutenant and midshipman saw the haunted look in his eyes. It was an admixture of horror, shock and sadness. Faraday and Brae would never forget that look for the rest of their lives.

Faraday spoke in a soft voice to Brae, "Fetch the flask for me and keep a weather eye in case there are any more survivors."

"Aye, sir." Brae handed him the flask and he took his station to the fore.

The lieutenant sat next to Norrington and proffered the flask. "For the cough, sir."

The commodore looked at him, accepted the flask, and took a swig. He spoke quietly, "I commend you and Mister Brae for handling this with a maturity well beyond your years and training."

"Thank you, sir. What happened, if I might ask?"

The commodore let out a sigh. "A rouge wave was spotted afore and Mister Stephens and I were trying to bring her about. It capsized us and that's when I received this little gift," he said, pointing to the gash on his head.

"Doesn't it hurt, sir? It looks pretty bad," asked the lieutenant.

Norrington looked at the young man. This is the least amount of pain I'm feeling right now, lieutenant, he thought. He smiled to cover his true feelings, "It really isn't that bad, and I may have done more damage to it than it did me. Have you found Mister Stephens?"

"No sir, not yet," replied Faraday.

Thirty crewmembers survived. Mister Stephens was never found. Three days later they were discovered by a merchant vessel heading for Leeward Islands and then to Jamaica.

Someone was beating heavily against Gillette's door. He opened it and saw  
Theodore Groves looking extremely pale.

"Theo, what in seven hells has gotten into you banging on my door at this hour?"

"Where is the _Dauntless_ , Andrew? Norrington came back last evening and the ship isn't here."

" _Wha_ t? Then where the _hell_ is it?" He ducked back in to get his great coat.

Both of them walked into Norrington's spacious office and found him packing a few items on his desk into a duffel bag. His wig was replaced by his long brown hair pulled back in a queue. A few tendrils of hair framed his face and beard.

"Well, good morning to you, too, James!" greeted Gillette. "Theo was beating to bloody quarters on my door this morning because the _Dauntless_ isn't here. Did you decide to berth her elsewhere just to scare the piss out of me?"

Norrington looked at Gillette. "She's gone." His green eyes were a sea of sorrow and loss. His voice was vacant. "Capsized off the coast of Africa." He nodded towards his desk, "and that's all that is left."

The two men ran up to the table and saw the name plate broken in two.

"What happened, sir?" asked Gillette.

"While chasing Sparrow we were caught between a frontal storm and a hurricane that was moving off the Cape Verde Islands. The frontal storm pushed us right into hurricane. A rogue wave over sixty feet capsized us. Mr. Stephens elected to stay and help me bring the _Dauntless_ around even though it was too late."

"Survivors?" asked Groves.

"Thirty."

Gillette collapsed in the chair that was across from his desk. Now his voice was distant. "I trained some of those lads." He looked to James. "How are you holding up?"

"How do you _think_?" James retorted. "I have lost _two_ ships within a few weeks of each other. My promotion is a _joke_ , Andrew!" His anger was building like storm. "And if losing my crew wasn't bad enough I now have to listen to the rumors and gossip by people who have _no_ idea what it's like to tie a nautical knot much less sail a ship of the line!"

"Which is why you shouldn't give a tinker's cuss about what they're saying, James. I'll be more than happy to tell them all to piss off!" replied Gillette.

"Not while you are wearing that uniform you won't!" said Norrington. The commodore seemed to have regained his usual bearing. "Besides, both of you are being promoted and I expect you not to be an embarrassment to the service as such." He pulled two scrolls from the desk drawer and handed them to the men. "I had hoped to present these under more fortuitous circumstances. You've more than earned them."

"What's the catch?" asked Groves, as he read the scroll.

"Theo's right," added Gillette. "Gig's up, James. Spill."

"I am resigning my commission."

Groves and Gillette did a double take.

"Don't look at me like that. The Admiralty will ask for my resignation soon enough. The two of you will be more than capable of taking care of Port Royal and the Caribbean in my absence."

"But you will come back, won't you, James?" asked Gillette. "The men would follow you to Hell and beyond if you told them to."

Norrington's voice was almost a whisper. "Considering recent events I am sure that the men are considering different career options." He paused, "I honestly don't know if I will return, Andrew. I need to meet with Governor Swann first and then I will leave. After that…" he shrugged.

"And where will you go after that, Captain Dashing?" asked Gillette. "Or are you Captain Scruffington now? I do like the new look, by the way. You know, it's high time we changed the dress code around here. Wool is fine in the North Atlantic but who the hell wears wool uniforms in the _Caribbean_?" His comment had its desired effect on the commodore.

"Gillette!" barked Norrington. "You will _not_ abuse your station by changing the dress code!"

He continued as though he hadn't heard James, "And the men will be allowed to grow beards, although I don't think they'll look as handsome as you, James."

"This is why you need to stay here, sir," said Groves. "Drew is going to be a right mess without someone to keep in line."

"You have my sympathies, Groves," James said, dryly. "Now you will know what I had to endure training the two of you."

"I'd say we were one of the _best_ things that happened to you, James," replied Gillette. With that he rose, went over to the other side of the desk and hugged him. "Take care of yourself, James." Groves came over as well and did the same.

"All manner of joking aside, I am proud to have served with both of you and even prouder to call you friends."

Later that day, Norrington entered Governor Weatherby Swann's office. He held the case for his ceremonial sword in one arm.

Swann's face brightened as he came from behind his desk to greet the commodore. "Ah, James! So good to see you! I take it that your mission was a success?"

Norrington gently placed the case on Swann's desk. "No governor, it was not," he said quietly.

Swann looked at the case and back at Norrington. "What is the meaning of this, James? I gave that to you as a gift for your promotion."

Norrington struggled to keep his emotions off of his face and out of his voice. It took every fiber of his military training to do so. "A promotion that I no longer deserve and wish to resign from, sir."

The governor's face blanched. "If you are doing this because you failed to catch Sparrow it is _highly_ unwarranted. Your worth to me is not measured in station and deeds alone."

"You may alter your opinion, governor when you hear the whole story, sir. In pursuing Sparrow we were caught in a hurricane not unlike the one we encountered during our crossing from England."

"The one that went around the _Dauntless_ and came back?"

The commodore nodded. "Though I think this storm had a mind of its own were such a thing possible. No matter what course I took…" He took a breath and continued, "Save thirty men, I lost the majority of my crew and the _Dauntless_ , governor, and hereby resign my commission as commodore of Port Royal."

Swann embraced both of Norrington's arms, "Dear God, James! Surely you do _not_ blame yourself for what happened!"

"The crew of the _Dauntless_ was under _my_ protection and _my_ command, sir. I have already notified their next-of-kin." He paused. "Governor, the rumors and gossip are already filling the streets. Your adversaries will use this as another excuse to get rid of you. The sooner I leave here the better off we shall be."

Swann looked at him knowingly. "I suspect _no one_ is judging you half as harshly as _you_ are judging _yourself_ , James. Do not concern yourself with my adversaries. I do not care what they say and I am more than capable of handling them."

Norrington allowed a small smile. "Then I shall care for both of us and take my leave." His face and voice softened for a moment. "Weatherby, you have always been like a father to me and I appreciate your care and support more than you could ever know."

"If you regard me as a father then will you not listen to a fatherly counsel? Give this time, James. You cannot be expected to make a rational decision in this state any more than you could hope to see a clear reflection of yourself in turbulent water."

Norrington shook his head. "With all due respect, sir, I _have_ made my decision. It would only be a matter of time before the Admiralty would request my resignation, anyway. They would not look lightly on the loss of two ships and half a crew, so I leave on my own. Captain Gillette and Lieutenant Commander Groves will be responsible for overseeing the Royal Navy's presence here, sir. Should you find yourself or Port Royal to be under threat from any power then you will find no surer and loyal men to come to your aid." He turned to leave.

"Where will you go, James?" asked Swann.

James opened the door. "Good day, Governor Swann." The memories crashed through his mind and he made haste to leave the mansion before he lost his composure. So focused was he on his will that he nearly collided into Elizabeth Swann and William Turner while walking down the steps outside the mansion. Elizabeth caught the haunted look in his green eyes. "James? What happened?" He quickly apologized for almost running into them and made haste to board the carriage. "James!" shouted Elizabeth. The horses pulled the carriage away.

Elizabeth looked perplexed and worried for clearly something had unsettled him.

"You haven't heard the news, have you?" asked Will as they entered the mansion and sat in one of its spacious rooms.

Her eyebrows knitted in concern. "What news?

"Norrington lost the _Dauntless_ and all but thirty of his crew while trying to capture Jack! He tried to sail right through a hurricane to overtake the _Pearl_."

Her hands flew to her mouth. "What? James would _never_ put his crew or his ship in that kind of danger, not even to capture Jack Sparrow!"

"He was obsessed, Elizabeth. It was a reckless move on his part. He should have thought about his crew before going after Sparrow in that storm."

Elizabeth slapped him in outrage. "How dare you, William Turner! How _dare_ you! I suppose that you are an expert at piloting around hurricanes from the work you do in your _smithy_!"

Turner rubbed his cheek and was shocked at how violently she had rounded on him. "What has gotten into you, Elizabeth? You haven't been the same ever since Norrington left to pursue Sparrow and you've been even more unsettled since his return." He paused and tilted his head to the side. "Or are you having second thoughts about your former fiancé?"

Her eyes glared at him with rage. "James Norrington is many things, William Turner, but he is _not_ a reckless man. Do you know how many hurricanes he sailed us around during our crossing from England? Two. At all times he demonstrated great care and concern for his passengers and crew and he did _not_ heedlessly put us in harm's way. The second storm was, as he called it, most fickle." She smiled at the memory. "Father and I were secured in the great cabin, although it did not spare us from the violent rolling of the ship. We were both quite sick. James was first lieutenant on the _Dauntless_. He would frequently check on us as time allowed. After one very violent roller nearly capsized the ship I had asked James if we were going to drown. He looked at me with such calm assurance. He knelt down so that he was eye level with me and said, 'Don't worry, Miss Swann, we are heading for less turbulent waters. The roller you felt was from the ship tacking into a different direction, and I do apologize if it unsettled you. This is a most fickle storm indeed, but that should be the worst of it.' During one of his few breaks he drew an image on a map to show us the path of the storm and the _Dauntless_. The storm was moving in a circle! It looked like the ship and the storm were engaged in a complex dance of avoiding each other. He said it wasn't uncommon for a hurricane to move like that but it was very rare. Two days we spent in that storm and then we cleared it on the morning of the third day."

Will's eyes were blank. "You _love_ him, don't you, Elizabeth?"

She blinked as his words snapped her out of the reverie. "What? I was merely pointing out the grievous error of your comment, Will. Clearly, you have paid more attention to gossip than fact. I know from experience that James is _not_ a man who would mindlessly risk the lives of his crew or his ship."

Turner shook his head. "I saw your face as you talked about Norrington. There is more than just fondness present though perhaps you are still unaware of it."

"What are you saying, Will?"

He stood up to leave. "I think you need to examine your heart, Miss Swann, to see what truly lies there. As for our engagement, I release you from it so that you may discern which man you truly love." He bowed. "Good day, Miss Turner."

Elizabeth stood up. "No! Wait! _Will_!" But he was already gone. She plopped unceremoniously onto the couch. "A fickle storm, indeed," she said to herself


	2. Chapter 2: A Storm Called Beckett

**A Storm Called Beckett**

 _The Swann Residence (five months later)_

Captain Andrew Gillette and Lieutenant Commander Theodore Groves were summoned by Weatherby Swann on a matter of grave importance.

"Before he left, Commodore Norrington said that if we were ever under threat from any power that I could count on both of you for help."

"That problem being Cutler Beckett, sir?" asked Gillette.

Swann seemed caught off guard. "How did you know, captain?"

"Because that half pint is a greedy little bast…" he was stopped when Groves cleared his throat and glared askance at him. The captain corrected himself. "My apologies, governor. I knew because Cutler Beckett's lust for power is well known, sir. It was only a matter of time before that megalomaniac decided to add the Eastern Caribbean to his map. All he cares about is power and money. Believe me, I saw the handiwork of his pet assassin, Mr. Mercer, when I was stationed at Fort St. George on the _Royale_. Mercer tortures and kills anyone who gets in his master's way."

"Did you inform your commanding officer?" Swann asked.

Gillette shook his head. "I was a newly minted midshipman, sir, and Cutler Beckett had the captain in his pocket. As I said, currency matters most to Beckett. He has no qualms with subjugating or killing whoever gets in his way. If he's coming to Port Royal, then so is Mercer. I don't mean to alarm you, governor, but you should be very concerned and we should make plans with the utmost haste." 

Swann nodded gravely. "That is why I called for both of you. He will be here within seven days, possibly sooner. I am glad to see my initial concerns about him weren't unwarranted." He clasped his arms behind his back and walked towards the window. "In my circle of friends and adversaries there are rumors that Beckett hopes to overthrow my position at Port Royal and control the Eastern Caribbean. Since he owns the majority of the Admiralty he will be well equipped for the task."

"I need Lieutenant Commander Groves to find the commodore, and I need you, captain, to take my daughter to safety," replied Swann.

"Permission to speak freely, sir?" asked Gillette.

"Granted."

"The last time Miss Swann and I were on the same ship she created quite the ruckus playing pirate with Mister Turner. I will not be able to divide my attention between our fleet and Beckett's forces. If she decides to disappear for whatever reason…"

The governor held up his hand. "Point taken, captain. I can assure you that she will not be a problem for you or your crew."

The two officers exchanged a knowing look.

"As for Mister Turner," continued the governor, "he left a few months ago."

"Very well, sir. Now as to finding James… he made it explicitly clear that he _did not want_ to be found, and believe me, sir, when he's upset you _don't_ want to go searching for him," said Gillette.

"Are you not the commanding officer of Port Royal now?" asked Swann, indignantly.

Gillette nodded. "That I am, sir, and I am also his friend. James has lost _two_ ships since his promotion, including most of the crew for one of those ships. Now he has to sort this out with himself in his own way."

"But he shouldn't have to do that alone, captain!" Weatherby's face saddened. "I'm just worried about him. At the very least, I would like Lieutenant Commander Groves to at least perform a reconnaissance, and if you do find him," the governor brought a rectangular case over to Groves, "please return this to him. It's the ceremonial sword I gave him when he was promoted last year."

"I will do my best to find him, sir," said Groves as he accepted the case. The two men prepared to leave the office.

Swann spoke again, "When this trial is over I would very much like to hear the rest of your story, captain, and how it was that you and Lieutenant Commander Groves came to be stationed at Port Royal."

Gillette could see that the governor needed something to lift his spirits before Cutler Beckett arrived. His blue eyes sparkled with their usual mischief. "Ah, now that's where the story gets interesting, sir. We came to be under the charge of a certain dashing captain by the names of James Norrington. We actually called him Captain Dashing then though not to his face, obviously."

"Except for that time he overheard us," added Groves.

"And then," laughed Gillette, "he dashed some sense into both of us by ordering us to sit in the crosstrees of the main for several hours."

"While taking control of the helm to demonstrate that he did, in point of fact, have a sense of humor and he would be the only one doing the laughing, thank you very much," finished Groves.

The three men laughed and Gillette was glad to see that the anecdote had the desired effect on the governor.

"Thank you gentlemen. I shall look forward to the time when I can hear your stories in full."

The two officers nodded and left the governor's mansion.

All humor left Gillette's face as he and Groves walked outside towards the carriage. "He has no idea about what is going to happen and neither do you."

"Then tell me, Andrew."

Gillette shook his head. "Not here and not now. Let us go to my office and then we can discuss it.

TBC


	3. Chapter 3: A Shrewd Mind

The light from the oil lamp illuminated the maps and nautical charts spread on the table. James Norrington was in his true element. He deftly utilized his plane scale and dividers to plot multiple points around the Caribbean and the Spanish Main. Even in the doldrums of sorrow his brain had continued to examine and re-examine everything that went right and horribly wrong with his last mission and thus he had conceived a brilliant strategy to avenge the deaths of his crew and the loss of two ships. The green eyes that had been awash with pain and sorrow had reverted to the calculating eyes of a hunter. Norrington's ruse was fully established so that the locals merely thought of him as a bitter drunk who was no more than the occasional barroom brawler.

The nightmares still came and awoke him in cold sweats but little by little he steeled the anger and anguish into an action that would honor those he had lost. He found a modicum of peace in that balance. The strategical planning also helped him to focus his mind as did the wearing his blue dress coat. He had worn it during his last mission and he now wore it in honor of those who had died. Its frayed gold thread and missing buttons were a testament to the indomitable spirit of the British Royal Navy and that pleased James greatly. He had questioned the wisdom of wearing part of his military uniform in Tortuga. Would it give him away and turn him into a target? His concerns, as it turned out, were unwarranted. Several of the scallywags wore old military uniforms that had been taken from their previous owners. It was yet another layer in his stratagem.

James had lost men before but not quite so many at once. All of them risked death whether by cannonade or nature's fury. His military training and experience helped him to both mourn the loss of his crew and to remain committed to being a man of action. That was the finely honed, double-edged sword that was James Norrington.

He rolled the charts and maps, pulled at the loosened floorboard, and placed the documents underneath. They would be safely hidden beneath the floor. He stowed his navigational tools in his sack and slid it under the bed.

James stood and picked up his frazzled white wig. He smirked. Perhaps Gillette had a good point about their impracticality at sea. He placed the wig on his head and topped it with his tricorn. It was time to engage in some reconnaissance downstairs.

A great ballyhoo was erupting from the bar. James checked his pistol and re-holstered it. The slightest disagreement could set the disagreeable lot at each other's throats. They lacked the military discipline and let their passions become their undoing. As he descended the stairs he caught bits about the East India Trading Company, Cutler Beckett, and Port Royal.

Then he heard his name though no one was addressing him by it. He went to the bar, ordered some grog and went to one of the tables. He crossed his long legs on the table, took a swig of the dreadful tasting ilk and listened.

"Ain't no one seen the commodore in over a year. Fool went down with 'is ship chasing after the _Black Pearl_ ," said one pirate by the name of Crab.

"Then why did Beckett post a warrant for his arrest if 'e's _dead_ , Crab?" asked a pirate named Squib.

"Who the bloody hell cares, mate?" yelled Iggy, "point is Beckett's offered a nice bounty."

"I don't like it, Ig," replied Crab. "Any pirate who goes looking after Norrington ends up dancing from a noose outside the 'arbor."

Several other pirates nodded in agreement.

"And how do you plan to hunt after Norrington when the East India Trading Company's fleet is patrolling the Eastern Caribbean and the Spanish Main?" asked another pirate.

James decided it was time to contribute to their conversation. "What makes you gents think Beckett won't hang all of you after you deliver the commodore?"

"Longshanks 'as a point, Ig," replied Crab. "Beckett's tryin' to exterminate all of us!"

"Yeah!" added Squib. "Who's to say 'e won't put a bullet in yer back afterwards?"

Iggy glared at Longshanks. "An' I suppose you have a better idea, Longshanks?"

He took a swig of his grog. "I do, actually. Any pirate who trusts Beckett will get exactly as he deserves: a short drop and a sudden stop."

Several gasps went up from the group of pirates.

James continued, "Have any of you ever bothered to consider that the warrant may be a _trap_? What easier way to capture pirates than to promise them a huge reward?"

Iggy walked towards him. "Fancy coat you 'ave, Longshanks," he said, nodding towards Norrington's coat. "British Royal Navy issue. How'd ye come about such a nice bit 'o finery?"

"I _earned_ it. Attack one of the East India Trading Company's ships and you'll earn one, too," replied James.

Iggy seemed to consider it. Then he laughed a boisterous laugh and slapped James so hard against his back that he nearly spewed out the rum in his mouth.

"I like the way you think, Longshanks!"

You won't like me so much when it leads all of you to the gallows, James thought.

TBC


	4. Chapter 4: What's Your Plan of Action?

The carriage from Weatherby Swann's residence stopped at the docks. Gillette and Groves walked the rest of the way to the office. The briny scent of the Caribbean helped to clear their minds during their walk as did the efficient sight of officers and seamen who were tending to their duties on the _Vindictive_ and the _Intrepid_. Ensigns and pennants snapped smartly in the strong breeze from the bay.

The two men entered the building that had been Norrington's office. "I've half a mind to rig this entire office so that when smug Lord Half-Pint opens the door BOOM!" said Gillette. He sat down and poured two glasses of brandy from the decanter. He handed one glass to Groves.

"Are you so eager to lose your promotion, Andrew?" asked Groves as he accepted the glass. "I doubt James would approve that method of redecoration."

"Probably not, but it would give me no small amount of joy to rid the world of Cutler Beckett," replied Gillette. "Speaking of which," he leaned closer to Groves, "what I am about to share with you is _not_ to be repeated to anyone. Cutler Beckett employs others to accomplish his dirty work and that is what makes him lethal. He'll promise them power, wealth, anything just to gain control of them and use them. As such, you and I do not know who has been compromised at Port Royal. It sounds as if some of the governor's friends have been bought. It may be possible that some of our men are also involved. That is why I am ordering you to keep our plans to yourself. Once Beckett arrives then I suspect his lackeys will reveal themselves. In the meantime, watch your aft."

"If I find that any of our men have turned I will hang them from the yard arms personally," replied Groves.

Gillette shook his head. "No, a hanging would be too easy. My imagination is vast, Drew, as is my temper when it's provoked. They would wish for a quick death and not receive it, and if I discover that they are responsible for spreading these lies about James…"

"First things first, Andrew. I need to _find_ James, first," replied Groves.

"Yes, about that," he said, as he refilled his glass, "what's your plan of action?"

"I would like to take the _Vindictive_ to the one place that James loathed the most."

Gillette's blue eyes were dancing with mirth. "That wouldn't be the same place he threatened to maroon you if you didn't stop mooning over Jack Sparrow would it?"

"Tortuga," they said in unison.

"We'll fit the _Vindictive_ so she looks like a merchant ship. We've done it before during patrols and it has worked handsomely."

"What's the tactical advantage for James to be sequestered in that miserable cesspool?" asked Gillette.

"Reconnaissance," replied Groves. "James knows that Sparrow frequents Tortuga and, at some point, he will return. Sparrow won't expect to find James there. Of course the other reason, ridiculous as it sounds, is that he wants to commandeer a pirate ship."

Gillette blinked and slammed his glass down on the table. Then he rose and paced the office, "That devious little…and he's not going to commandeer just _any_ pirate ship, Theo. That sneaky bugger is going after the _Pearl_ and he's going to do it _without us_!"

"Calm down, Andrew!" replied Groves. "It was just a suggestion and a rash one at that. Even if James could conceive such a plot he can't crew her by himself any more than Sparrow and Turner could crew the _Dauntless_."

Gillette sat down next to him. "Think about it, Theo. James has lost how many ships to Sparrow? _Two_. He's lost _two_ ships shortly after receiving his promotion. I wouldn't put it past him to return the favor to Sparrow."

Groves shook his head. "But it's suicide, Drew! How in blazes is he going to commandeer the _Pearl_ from the heart of Tortuga by himself?"

Gillette smiled broadly. "He's not going to do that by himself. _You_ are going to make all haste to Tortuga. Raze parts of the _Vindictive_ if you need her to move faster. Get her ready to go out this evening, Theo. I will send help once I secure Port Royal."


	5. Chapter 5: Matters of the Heart

Elizabeth Swann walked to her father's study. She had heard that the _Vindictive_ had left in the evening for parts unknown. She wondered if they were searching for James. Perhaps it was best that Will had broken their engagement. A year ago, she thought she had wanted Will, but then the needle on the compass of her heart spun out of control when James left to recapture Jack.

And that needle always came back to the one she had known and trusted the longest. The one who had always been there for her and the one she had treated horribly. She shut out that last thought.

"Father, you wished to see me?"

Weatherby hugged her tightly as if that would be the last time they would ever see each other. She pulled back, "What's wrong?"

"Cutler Beckett of the East India Trading Company will arrive here in a few days. I need you to go with Captain Gillette on a special mission for me since I will be entertaining Beckett here."

Elizabeth could sense that something was amiss. "You believe this Cutler Beckett could cause me harm and you want to keep me safe? I can take care of myself, father, and you as well."

"Elizabeth," he protested, "now is _not_ the time to revert to being a pirate. You are the _governor's daughter_ and I need you to fulfill that role!"

And why can I not do _both_? she thought. A governor's daughter _should_ be able to protect the people, not just act as a conversation piece or work of art.

"Father, if he poses a threat to you or to the citizens of Port Royal…"

He held up a placating hand. "Do not worry about me, Elizabeth. I've weathered worse people than Cutler Beckett, but I would feel better if you were out of his reach."

She knew he was lying to protect her and it infuriated her. She didn't need to be protected from what she already knew. She also knew that it was pointless to argue with him once he had made up his mind.

"If the commodore was here then would it still be a problem?" she asked as she sat down on the couch.

He sat next to her and placed his hands on hers. "I honestly don't know, dear, but I have every confidence in the men he has left in charge. They are as every bit as astute and shrewd as he is."

But they're not James, she thought. She felt tears pool in her eyes. "If I had honestly accepted his proposal then he would not have left. He could've had someone to..."

"Elizabeth." Weatherby dabbed her face with his handkerchief and then hugged her. "Commodore Norrington suffered a great loss not entirely of his making, but he must deal with this in his own way and we must respect that."

"But will he return?"

He sighed. "I-I don't know."

She pulled back from him and lifted her chin. "Very well, father. When must I leave?"

"Tomorrow morning, when the tide goes out."

She rose to leave and he held her hand. "Elizabeth, I just want you to know how proud I am of you."

She leaned down and kissed him. Then she left his study. She had a smile in her eyes on her face. Elizabeth Swann was going to find James Norrington no matter what it took to do it. And when she found him she wasn't letting go.

TBC


	6. Chapter 6: The Windward Passage

Mister Brae loved hearing the rigging hum in the wind and the sound of canvas and pennants snapping briskly in the tops of the _Vindictive_. The ship was preparing to enter the Windward Passage when he spotted sails on the distant horizon. "Sails to leeward!" he shouted down to the deck.

First Lieutenant Freddy Maynard had the watch and called back, "What do you make of them, Mister Brae?"

Brae adjusted his spyglass. "She's flying the ensign of the East India Trading Company, sir. I believe it's the _Endeavor._ There more ships coming around, sir. Brigs, frigates."

Maynard confirmed the sighting from the quarterdeck. He made a note of it in the ship's log and then went to the captain's cabin.

"Sir, Mister Brae has spotted their armada including the _Endeavor_."

"So they've finally arrived," replied Groves. "Have any of them taken an interest in us?"

"No sir, they're in formation coming around to Port Royal."

Groves nodded, "When is our estimated time of arrival in Tortuga, lieutenant?"

Maynard allowed himself a slight smile. "If the wind remains in our favor then we should make it to the harbor at nightfall, sir."

"Very well. Have Mister Brae keep a weather eye out for those ships in case a few of them change their minds'," said Groves.

"Yes, sir!"

The East India Trading Company's ships moved languidly through the eastern Caribbean as if they had all day to claim their prize: Port Royal.

Lord Cutler Beckett enjoyed a cup of tea while standing on the quarterdeck of the _Endeavor._ The purpose of the slow, snaking vanguard was to send a message to all the pirates in the vicinity: _your time is over_. His purpose in claiming Port Royal was to make it more efficient and to clear out the rabble. His Majesty agreed with Beckett's plan and provided warrants to arrest the three biggest troublemakers at Port Royal: William Turner, Elizabeth Swann, and James Norrington. The former two were guilty of conspiring with Jack Sparrow. The latter, was in his mind, a disgrace to the British a Royal Navy having lost two ships and allowing Sparrow to escape imprisonment _twice_. Good business cannot succeed with incompetence, he thought. All three of them would hang at Fort Charles as a message to those who would oppose the new order.

"What is it Mercer?" asked Beckett as he heard the steps of his colleague approach.

"They've spotted a ship that left Port Royal and is heading towards the Windward Passage. Shall I send a ship to investigate, sir?"

"Is it Royal Navy or a merchant vessel, Mercer?"

"A merchant ship, sir."

"No. Leave it alone for now," replied Beckett. He smiled at him, "If they are up to trouble then they will soon have nowhere to hide."

"Aye, sir."

Beckett enjoyed the euphoric rush he felt throughout his body. Soon all of the Caribbean would be his and his map would increase as would its yield. No one would dare oppose him. He would reward those who aided him and punish those who didn't.

The governor's carriage stopped at the _Intrepid_ ' _s_ dock.


	7. Chapter 7: Boarding The Intrepid

The governor's carriage pulled next to the _Intrepid_ ' _s_ dock. Second Lieutenant Edward Aubrey greeted them. "Welcome to the _Intrepid_. Governor, Miss Swann. If you'll follow me. The men will take care of your baggage."

They stepped out of the carriage and looked at the magnificent ship. "She's a first-rate, isn't she, lieutenant?" asked Elizabeth.

"That she is, Miss Swann," replied Aubrey, as they headed for the gangway. "Her sister ship was the _Dauntless_."

Elizabeth looked up and watched as the _Intrepid's_ main topsail slowly unfurled. "She's square rigged. Those sails have the advantage when the wind is astern of the ship or over the quarter."

"Elizabeth!" protested her father.

"No offense is taken, governor," replied Aubrey as the crossed the gangway. "You seem to know a great deal about our ship, Miss Swann." He offered his hand to her and helped her to step off the gangway and onto the ship.

She smiled. "During our crossing from England, Commodore – well First Lieutenant - Norrington taught me a great deal about navigation and sailing to help with my studies while at sea. I struggled horribly with math until James…er… _Lieutenant_ Norrington showed me how to actually apply it to something meaningful besides sewing."

Her father shot her a warning look. She smiled inwardly. This was the light duel of wits that they always seemed to engage with each other. He demanded that she stick to domestic topics while she crossed over them.

Aubrey nodded approvingly. "You could not have learned from a better man, Miss Swann. Many of us were trained by Commodore Norrington and many more wish they had an opportunity to be under his direct command."

"Then I have complete confidence in the crew, lieutenant. Thank you for seeing my father and I onto the ship," she said graciously. She looked back at her father as if to say, see, I can be a gracious host and knowledgeable.

Aubrey bowed. "My pleasure, Miss Swann, governor. We have reserved a space for you in the captain's cabin. If you require anything, please do not hesitate to ask me."

"Thank you, lieutenant," replied the governor.

Just then Captain Gillette came down from the quarterdeck and approached them. "My apologies for not meeting you directly, Governor Swann."

"No apologies are necessary, captain," he replied.

"Congratulations on your recent promotion, captain," said Elizabeth as she shook Gillette's hand. "I know you more than earned it."

"Thank you, Miss Swann. Governor, if I may have a moment with you in private."

Elizabeth turned to watch the bustle on the deck of the ship as the two men talked. Goods were being lifted onto the ship through a system of pulleys. Top men went aloft to ready the sails for departure. She felt a pang in her heart. While she had every confidence in these men it wasn't quite the same as having James on the ship or hearing his voice issuing commands to his men. Another pang hit her. _Why_ had she hurt him so much? James Norrington _was_ a fine man and yet she had treated him as if he were just a tool to be used. She remembered his hurt expression when she had declared her love for Will. Elizabeth immediately pushed that thought away and tilted her head upwards to keep the tears from spilling down. I'm so sorry, James, she thought. I _will_ find you and I will find a way to make it up to you.

The captain and the governor went by the doors of the cabin. "The East India Trading Company's armada has been spotted, sir, and will arrive here before morning. I will to need to leave earlier than I anticipated. You've sent the women and children to Fort James, yes?"

The governor nodded. "Yes. The infantrymen have taken them to the northern fort though a few have volunteered to stay behind to maintain the illusion of presence. Have you received any information about Commodore Norrington?"

Gillette shook his head, "No, sir, but the _Vindictive_ should be there by nightfall." Gillette grabbed the governor's arm. "Be very careful, governor. Remember what I said about Beckett and Mister Mercer."

Swann nodded, "Thank you for your assistance, captain. Please take care of my daughter."

"I will, sir," said Gillette, even though he knew that Elizabeth Swann was more than capable of taking care of herself.


	8. Chapter 8: Tortuga

Groves looked at himself in the mirror. He was glad that he let the stubble on his face fill out to something more promising. His powdered wig was replaced by his naturally dark hair pulled back into a queue. He had less the bearing of a Lieutenant Commander of His Majesty's Royal Navy and more that of a merchant or even a pirate. His top coat was a long brown duster that had deep inside pockets. Beneath that he wore a deep blue silk shirt that had specs of gold thread throughout and a white ascot around his throat. Across the coat he wore a weatherworn black baldric.

They had berthed the _Vindictive_ just inside the harbor.

Groves made his way to the door at the end of the hall. The walls around the door were riddled with bullet holes and stains, of blood or alcohol he could not tell for the stains were old. His hand reached for the door knob when he heard the sound of a pistol and then felt it behind his head.

"Clearly you didn't understand my final instructions, Theo," a familiar, deep voice spoke behind him.

"You always said I was the most obstinate officer you ever had to train, sir," Groves replied, quietly.

" _Indeed_." Norrington's hand reached over and unlocked the door. Groves felt the pistol push into the back of his head. He moved into the room. Norrington secured the door once they were both inside the room. Groves took one of the chairs by the table and Norrington took the other.


	9. Chapter 9: A Storm is Brewing

"Governor Weatherby Swann, it's been too long," announced Cutler Beckett as he entered the governor's office.

"Cutler Beckett," replied Swann. "I hardly think an armada is required if you are just paying me a friendly visit."

"It's _lord_ now, actually," he replied as he walked towards the governor's desk, "and I'm afraid this isn't an informal visit, governor."

"Oh?"

Beckett held out his hand towards Mister Mercer. The assistant placed three scrolls in Beckett's hand. "I've come to clean up Port Royal, starting with the…removal of these individuals."

Swann read each of the scrolls. "I'm afraid you've come too late, _Lord_ Beckett. Commodore Norrington resigned his commission some time ago. Mister Turner left several months past looking for his father, and Elizabeth Swann," he smiled, "is safely out of your reach."

"It's that merchant ship we saw, sir!" replied Mercer. "They're on that ship – they must be!" Mercer glared at Swann

"Heading towards Tortuga, no doubt," Beckett replied calmly. "I'll hang them there or I'll hang them here. Either way, they will die for their treasonous actions. Send two ships after them, Mercer."

"You do not speak for His Majesty!" objected Swann.

Beckett was unperturbed, "No. I speak for the men who _provide_ the king with his power, governor. And those men feel it's time that Port Royal had a new leader."


	10. Chapter 10: Enter Captain Jack Sparrow

The lively music inside the _Twelve Daggers_ came to a halt when the pirate crossed its threshold.

"Don't stop on account of me, mates. Carry on!" he made a flourished wave as he made his way towards the bar and ordered a pint of grog.

"Jack Sparrow!" announced Iggy.

Sparrow rolled his eyes. " _Captain_! It's _Captain_ Jack Sparrow, if you please, Iggy." He nodded for them to go to their usual alcove in the back.

"Didn't expect you to be back so soon, Sparrow," said Iggy as they sat down at their usual table.

"I'd _still_ be out if it weren't for the bloody East India Trading Company," replied Sparrow, taking another swig of his grog.. "Cutler Beckett was in the process of closing off the Caribbean with his armada when I decided to take leave here."

"Well, 'e's looking for some fugitives including Commodore Norrington."

"They're looking in vain, then," replied Sparrow. He took his hat off to show respect, "He lost his life, the _Dauntless,_ and his crew off of Africa, chasing after _me_ , nonetheless. I'm flattered but it's" his voice softened, "a waste of a good man, really. I'll miss him but not too much," he said putting his hat back on and taking a swig of rum.

"Well some of the men still think 'e's alive, Jack. They saw the bounty that Beckett was offering for him. I was going to search after 'im until Longshanks convinced me otherwise."

Sparrows brow furrowed. "Who's this 'Longshanks', then? I've never even 'eard of him."

"Oh, 'e's a real clever gent, Jack. You'd like 'im loads. A little taller than you, rail thin, green eyes and a deep voice. Got 'imself one of those British Royal Navy coats from winning a fight with them."

Sparrow felt as if the floor had turned into quicksand and he was being consumed by it. He grabbed Iggy's wrist. "Think about the sleeves on that coat, mate. Did they by any chance have any gold bars on 'em?"

"Wot do you care, Jack? 'e earned it fair an' square!"

"Just answer the question, mate," replied Sparrow.

Iggy closed his eyes. "Two! He had two gold bars on his sleeves, Jack."

Sparrow leaned back in his chair. "Well, that's _interesting_. And where is this Longshanks staying? I think I would like to have a word with 'im."

"You're the second chap to ask about 'is whereabouts, Jack. Upstairs. Down the end of the port side."

Sparrow didn't like this development one bit, but given a choice between Cutler Beckett and James Norrington, he would take his chances with the latter.

A tear fell on the parchment that James held in his hands. It caused some of the ink to bleed. Swann had not reported his resignation to the Admiralty. In fact, as far as the governor was concerned, he was still a commodore. James was surprised at the tear. He hadn't cried in months. Slowly his sorrow had hardened into hurt and then anger. Weatherby's understanding and kindness managed to break through that hardness. He wiped his eye, folded the parchment and placed it inside his coat. "Take those maps and put them in my duffel bag, lieutenant," he said to Groves.

"So are you going to return, James?" Groves replied as he rolled the maps and placed them into the bag.

Norrington regarded his friend and fellow officer. "My father always had a high regard for Cutler Beckett and the East India Trading Company, however recent events have caused me to reconsider that glowing appraisal. Any man who puts his own interests ahead of the good and safety of civilians must be dealt with. If he thinks that he's going to use the citizens of Port Royal as mere chattel, then I will be more than happy to disabuse him of that notion."

Groves smiled. That was the voice and good sense of the commanding officer and friend that he respected so much. "The _Vindictive's_ not too far off, sir. We should be able to…" he was interrupted by a knock at the door.

"Are you expecting anyone, James?" whispered Groves.

James shook his head and took out his pistol. The door handle jiggled. Groves took out his pistol as well. James motioned for Groves to take the duffel bag as well. "Who goes there?" he asked.

A falsetto voice replied, "Room service!"

"Go away! I didn't order anything!" bellowed James in his best drunk voice.

Then a scratching noise was heard at the door. James yanked it open and was greeted by Sparrow. "Commodore Norrington! What a pleasant surprise!" The pirates downstairs heard Sparrow and raced to join him. Norrington pulled Sparrow into the room and locked the door.

"Really, James, I'm glad to see you're still alive, although with a bounty on yer head that might not last too long. I've a way to help you off this godforsaken rock."

"And why do you want to help me, Sparrow?" asked James, not believing him.

Loud footsteps could be heard running down the hall followed by the sound of several swords being withdrawn from their sheaths.

"Because you gave me a day's head start, mate. I help you and we'll be square."

"And where will you go then, Sparrow?" asked Groves, pointing his pistol at the pirate. "The East India Trading Company has holed up the Caribbean, or do you mean to use us as a means to escape them?"

"You've trained the mini-Norrington well, James," commented Sparrow. "Gentlemen, I think it would suit both our purposes to leave this abode soon before the whole of the _Twelve Daggers_ breaks down that door."

Groves looked at James and the commodore nodded. The three men headed towards the window and leapt from it.


	11. Chapter 11: The Great Escape

"Come, come! Get under it!" hissed Sparrow as he headed for one of the capsized longboats. They hid under the boat as the room exploded with cursing pirates. They looked out from the window trying to find their quarry.

"I told you he was _still_ alive!" hollered Crab.

"And Sparrow's gone off with our bounty!" hollered Iggy.

The racket silenced as the pirates raced back downstairs.

"Quick, now. Where's your ship?" asked Sparrow.

Groves came out from under the boat and saw the stern lamps hanging so they formed the letter 'N'. "Over there, two points to starboard of those trees." Both he and Sparrow ducked back under the boat.

"Right then, gents, crawl to the water's edge and then let the boat take us down to the floor of the harbor." Sparrow was at the bow, Norrington was amidships, and Groves took up the stern.

"This is insane, Sparrow!" said Groves.

"I concur," replied Norrington.

The pirate let out an exasperated sigh. "'ave you ever wondered how Turner and I got to the _Dauntless_ unseen?" Jack smiled, "And that worked in broad daylight with infantrymen crawling all over the place." He felt the two men behind him moving the boat.

Water rose over their feet, calves, thighs, and stopped short of their waists. They felt the soft bottom of the harbor and walked. Ample oxygen was provided by the portion of boat that covered their heads.

"Clever, Sparrow," said Norrington, "but if you expect me to believe that you are doing this out of the kindness of your heart you are sorely mistaken."

"Tortuga has done nothing to soften your demeanor, James," replied Sparrow.

They heard muffled voices from above. "Sounds like your men, commodore."

Groves tapped Norrington's shoulder. The men exchanged a look and something else that the pirate could not discern. Groves then slipped from under the boat and surfaced. A few minutes passed and he returned. "They brought the quarter boat out to retrieve us, sir. Mister Brae spotted us entering the water."

The commodore nodded.

"Well, this is where I leave you gents. A pleasure as always, commodore. As much as I would like to stay and chat I have my own plans for the evening."

Sparrow felt the sharp tip of a dagger in the small of his back and heard the rattle of irons further back.

"Oh, I must insist that you stay, Sparrow," replied Norrington as Groves pulled the pirate's arms backwards and shackled his hands. The commodore nodded at Groves and the lieutenant left to make way for the surface.

"I always knew you would stab me in the back one day, James," replied Sparrow.

"I'm just returning the favor, or did you forget that when you gave me the coordinates to Isla de Muerta you also neglected to tell me about the cursed pirates? They killed several of my men."

"Seems that Miss Swann was an accomplice in that act of negligence, James, and that's treason to the Crown. Yet, here I am, with a dagger at my back, awaiting the gallows, and she's running free at Port Royal with young William."

The pirate captain felt the commodore's fingers dig painfully into his shoulders. The two then made their way to the surface. The marines in the boat had their muskets pointed at Sparrow. Groves and another seaman helped Norrington onto the boat. "If he makes the slightest movement shoot him." The seamen hauled Sparrow onto the boat. The pirate was beginning to say something when Norrington replied, "Silent as the grave, Sparrow."

They soon boarded the _Vindictive_. "Put him in the brig under full watch," bellowed Groves. "Any man who aids this pirate in any way will hang from the yard arms!"

The men saluted and dragged Sparrow off to the brig.

"Commodore! It's good to see you again, sir!" yelled a voice from aloft.

Norrington looked up. "It's good to see you again as well, Mister Brae. My life is twice indebted to your sharp vision."

"Haul up the commodore's pennant!" ordered Groves. The seamen gladly responded to the request. "We'll keep a weather eye out for the _Pearl_ , sir. She can't go too far with the armada surrounding the Caribbean. The cabin is at your disposal. Welcome aboard!"

The officers and seaman shouted: "Huzzah! Huzzah! Huzzah!"

James entered the cabin and found a freshly pressed uniform hanging on the back of the closet door with a new wig and hat on the table. His eyes then fell on his ceremonial sword. The case was also on a table. He opened it slowly and removed the sword from its sheath.

As he looked at his reflection in the blade he remembered what Sparrow had said about Elizabeth. It was a truth he had attempted to deny and bury over time. He had tried to blame himself for initially ignoring his misgivings about the deception, for he knew she was hiding _something_ from him. Elizabeth's deceit had led to the deaths of his crew. What had _they_ done to _her_ to deserve that sentence? James no longer had her on a pedestal and was beginning to see her true nature. He did love that wild streak in her – the refusal to be treated as some kind of _thing_ , but it was also the same trait that drove him mad. The question was could he still love her? He felt fatigue, anger, and hurt eat away at him. The bedraggled man reflected in the blade needed a hot bath and some rest. James carefully placed the sword in its sheath and placed that back in the case. He called for the cabin boy to draw a hot bath for him. A clean body and a rested, clear mind would aid him in making decisions he would not regret.


	12. Chapter 12: A Meeting of Minds

Author's note: Thank you for the kind reviews of this story! I haven't forgotten about it. My schedule was a bit crazy for the past two months. I look forward to continuing this story to its completion and am glad to see that there are still fans present for these characters. Long live the Royal Navy of the Caribbean. ;)

Norrington awoke the following morning well refreshed and clean shaven. He enjoyed a simple breakfast of eggs and coffee. He was thankful that Groves had the foresight to bring aboard the commodore's spare great coat, waist coat, breeches, buckle shoes, wig, and hat, as well as his former steward, Mr. Pembry. The steward had cleaned the boots so they looked brand new in the early morning light. Norrington longed to wear the comfortable boots that he had worn while at Tortuga for they did not pinch his feet as much as the shoes, but alas, the boots were not standard issue for officers in His Majesty's Service. Everyone must do his duty, he thought, ruefully. He gave a sigh. Right. Now to examine the warrant and see what Cutler Beck was up to. He called to the sentry to send for his steward. Pembry came shortly afterwards, refilled his cup, cleaned the commodore's table, and left.

He spread the warrant on the table. According to Groves, similar warrants were issued for Mr. Turner and Miss Swann. The commonality between the three of them was their association with Jack Sparrow, yet _no_ warrants were issued for the pirate. Why? Also, the warrants clearly stated that the three fugitives were to be returned to Cutler Beckett _alive_. For what purpose? Surely, not to just humiliate them and demonstrate his power to the citizens of Port Royal? Norrington leaned against the back of the chair and rubbed his temples. Why was it that anything involving that blasted pirate gave him a deuce of headache? Perhaps Sparrow had something that Beckett desired, but what exactly was that? Norrington reviewed the list of items he had acquired from Sparrow when he was on board the _Dauntless_ : a pistol with no additional shots or powder, a cutlass, and a useless compass that didn't point north. He had roundly mocked the pirate when Sparrow told him the compass pointed to what the bearer wanted most. He thought the claim most spurious until he went to return the instrument to Sparrow and discovered that it pointed to Miss Swann. Norrington sat up with a start nearly tipping the table over with his legs. What if _that_ was the item Beckett was looking for? Perhaps Beckett thought the compass would help him in finding some artifact or person that he desired the most? That's why Beckett wanted the lot of them returned to Port Royal alive! He wanted the fugitives to find the compass for him and to blazes with Sparrow. Norrington was about to ask the sentry to send for Lieutenant Groves when he heard a light rapping at his door.

"Enter."

A young man saluted. Norrington gauged him to be about fifteen or sixteen. "Midshipman Leif, sir. Lieutenant Groves asks for your presence in his cabin, sir. And, if I may say, sir, it is a pleasure having you on board."

"Thank you, Mr. Leif." He rose from his chair and donned his tricorn. They made their way towards Groves' quarters. Norrington was amazed that despite the foul business with the _Dauntless_ , both officers and seamen had shown him great admiration. He knew the measure of men well enough to discern between courtesy out of duty and respect and heartfelt respect that was born from sincere admiration. Norrington also knew how to recognize obsequious men who thought they could avoid _earning_ their promotions by boot-licking their superiors. It was a quality that he had quickly unburdened from officers who chose that route and to hell with their power and connections. Connections would not save them in a battle inasmuch as their training and wits. Needless to say, he was thankful for the show of support and desired to demonstrate that their trust in him was not misplaced.

Midshipman Leif knocked on the door and then opened it upon hearing a response. Norrington ducked slightly upon entering to avoid hitting one of the crossbeams.

Groves rose from behind his desk. "Commodore! Welcome to my humble abode." He gestured for Norrington to take a seat across from him.

"Thank you, Lieutenant Groves. Have you received any news regarding Beckett's fleet?"

Groves nodded. He turned the chart around on the table so Norrington could see it. "One of their frigates has been shadowing our larboard since dawn this morning, and the _Pearl_ is shadowing us both here." A line that looked like the hour hand of a clock extended from the _Vengeance,_ to the EITC frigate, and all the way out to the _Pearl_.

"Well, well," commented Norrington. "It seems as if Mr. Sparrow will have to forego his hopes of a quick rescue attempt. I doubt Mr. Gibbs will risk the _Pearl_ by hauling her closer to us and the fleet, though I must admit the captain of the frigate is either foolish or a bit rash."

"I thought so as well, sir," replied Groves. "He's placed himself between us and the _Pearl_. Perhaps he is hoping the fleet's blockade will prevent and escape from either of us."

"You said that Beckett's fleet was making their approach to Port Royal as you entered the Windward Passage?"

"Yes, sir," replied Groves. "They were in an open blockade formation. Several frigates, sloops, and cutters, sir. I should not at all be surprised if one of their cutters has reached Tortuga by now." Groves picked up a pencil and marked a point on the chart. "Gillette had to leave a day earlier than he planned to get Miss Swann out of Port Royal in time. My guess is that by now Cutler Beckett has sorted out the ploy and he will attempt to push us towards the blockade. At least we have three advantages over them, sir."

"What are they, lieutenant?" asked Norrington.

"First, we know these waters better than they do, sir. You'll no doubt recall the many training exercises you ordered us to undertake in the narrow channels between islands and in shallow water."

Norrington looked at him pointedly. "I _do_ recall an exercise where you grounded the _Interceptor_ and made an awful mess of her keel," he replied dryly. Was he imagining things or did the lieutenant's cheeks blush slightly?

Groves nodded. "The very same exercise where you made me work with the seamen to haul her off the sand bar and back out to deeper water, sir. It's not an experience I will forget."

"I should hope not!"

"At any rate, I doubt Beckett's men will have such… _intimate_ knowledge of the waterways and islands as we do, sir."

Norrington considered the point. "That is presuming, of course, that none of our seamen have been seduced by Beckett's coin or promise of a quick promotion." Or that any of the _Dauntless'_ surviving crew signed up with Beckett to avenge their dead colleagues, he thought. While he knew some of the men admired him, like most commanding officers, he had his fair share of men who despised his methods and discipline. Beckett was offering them a legal means to exact revenge and advance their careers.

"What are the other two advantages?" he asked.

"Two, Beckett doesn't know that we've found you, and three, he doesn't know which ship Miss Swann is on board, sir."

"Unless you've promoted yourself to commodore, he will know that I am on your ship, that is if the pennant is still flying from last night," replied Norrington.

Groves shook his head. "I checked my enthusiasm last night, sir, and ordered it lowered after I realized we were announcing to all the world that you were now on board the _Vengeance_."

"Your thoughts were not misplaced, Groves" Norrington replied, gently, "and at least you caught yourself before it was too late. Tell me, do you know _why_ Cutler Beckett has such a deep desire to find Mr. Sparrow?"

The lieutenant's brows furrowed. "A hanging is clearly too simple. It's a puzzle, I'll grant you, sir. Beckett wants you, Miss Swann, and Mr. Turner to be returned alive. Clearly, the common denominator among you is an acquaintance with Sparrow, but why arrest you three when he could nab Sparrow directly?"

"I suspect because he assumed the three of us would be easier to arrest at Port Royal than a time-consuming search for Sparrow, but it may be something that Sparrow _has_ that interests Beckett."

Groves recognized the glint in Norrington's eye. It was the look he gave when he discovered something. "Go on, sir!"

"If Beckett is looking for an item that would benefit his station and grant him even more power then what does Jack Sparrow have that would enable his search?"

Groves smiled inwardly. Norrington always encouraged his officers and men to think carefully and then to look at the situation anew for details that they could've missed. Neither the sea, weather, nor an enemy force would be forgiving to an officer or sailor who expected them all to perform in a strict formula. Adaption and open thinking were keys to survival. He thought about the list of items they had retrieved from Sparrow last year. Groves slammed the table with his fist causing the compass and planes to rattle. "Blast! His _compass_ , sir!" he replied as he made the connection.

"Indeed! I think it's time we had a little chat with Sparrow, don't you, lieutenant?"

"Quite right, sir!"

"Under normal circumstances I would have Sparrow brought here, but I think both of us can agree not to give him any possible leverage should he choose to use it."

"Agreed, sir."

Norrington and Groves left the cabin to interrogate the pirate.


	13. Chapter 13: Interrogations

**Governor Swann's mansion**

"Do I need to remind you, Weatherby, that aiding fugitives can be punishable by death?" asked Cutler Beckett as he looked at the thin blade of his dagger. The flames from the fire place gave the it a hellish glow. "You have already lost your position as governor due to incompetence and now it seems you were harboring Sparrow all along, otherwise you would've ordered your men to shoot him once he had been identified. I'd say that makes you a _traitor_." Beckett's blue eyes appraised Swann and they had the lifeless quality of a great white shark's black eyes.

Swann stood before Beckett wigless with his hands in shackles and guards on either side of him as if he were nothing more than a common brigand. It was yet another demonstration of Beckett's lust for power. What Beckett didn't know was that Swann _did_ have friends among the King's court as well as among the Admiralty, including the First Sea Lord. He had followed Captain Gillette's instructions and sent the _HMS Rose_ to England to make His Lordship, Sir George Hardy, aware of Beckett's machinations in the Caribbean and to also bring back assistance. The ship was stationed at Barbados and Swann hoped Gillette's men had relayed the message there before Beckett's fleet had arrived. Swann would just have to bide his time until Captain Gillette and Lieutenant Commander Groves could render assistance. The only two things that mattered to him were the safety of his daughter and the safety of the civilians. And, he hoped that Commodore Norrington would return with Lieutenant Commander Groves.

Swann smiled thinly. "You never did mention the _real_ reason you came to Port Royal, _Lord_ Beckett. You _can't_ expect me to believe that you came _just_ to remove me from office and to execute three fugitives? Surely your _subordinates_ could've done that for you?"

Beckett appraised him with new eyes. Even though the man was in shackles and no longer a governor he still possessed a power in the form of a mind that was as sharp as his dagger. He smirked and sheathed the blade back inside his boot. "A very astute observation and you're quite right. There are events that are being put into motion and Port Royal will be at the center of those events."

Swann tilted his head, "No doubt where _you_ can control them."

"Indeed."

"And what does Jack Sparrow have to do with it?" asked Swann. "Surely a lord such as yourself would have nothing to do with a _scallywag_?"

"Jack and I have some… _unfinished_ business to tend to as I have business to finish with you."

"Oh?"

Beckett stood in front of Swann. Even though his 5'5" frame was five inches shy of the governor's 6'0" he more than made up for that lack with an aura of malevolence. It made Swann feel as if a python was slowly surrounding him waiting to squeeze him to death. Beckett's voice was lethally smooth, "You care _nothing_ for power, prestige, or possessions, which is rather unusual for a governor, even a former one. And _yet_ …" he paused and placed his index finger over the left side of Swann's chest, "and yet you value _people_ above all else. A foolish investment, really, and it's also your greatest weakness," he said, removing his finger from Swann's chest.

For his part, Swann had to struggle not to give in to the terror that was welling up within him. He managed to keep any trembling out of his voice, "You mean it's a bad investment once people have lost their usefulness to _you_?" He glared down at Beckett so as not to show the man the fear he really felt.

Beckett's face beamed. "Exactly! I'm glad we understand each other on that point."

Swann recognized the threat and knew what he would have to do to give the Royal Navy the time they needed to return to Port Royal.

"I must say that my informants and supporters here did not truly understand you at all," added Beckett. "You are quite far from the doddering fool they portrayed you to be. Unfortunately for you, I am not as easily fooled. I _will_ find your daughter and I _will_ find where the citizens of Port Royal have gone off to and then, Weatherby, we'll see what price you are willing to pay at that point."

The guards squeezed his arms. "You're not sending me to the jail house?" asked Swann.

"I think not. A house arrest will do. I can find far better ways to humiliate you than by throwing you into a cell. Take him away!" said Beckett with a wave of his hand.

 **HMS** ** _Vengeance_**

"Ah! Commodore! You've come to pay me a visit at last!" greeted Jack Sparrow. He sat up and then walked to the bars of his cell. "Though I must say you looked far better with the beard, James. It gave you a rather _rakish_ quality. To what do I owe the honor of this visit?"

"Mind who you're talking to, Sparrow!" warned Groves.

"Ah, it's the Mini-Norrington!" commented Sparrow. "Decorum is not in my vocabulary, Lieutenant Groves."

Norrington could feel his temples throbbing. "Unless, of course, you _want_ something. Then you sing like the bird you were named after."

"Exactly!" replied Sparrow with much glee. "Could either of you gentlemen be so kind as to provide me with a tot of rum?"

The two officers looked at each other knowingly.

"This isn't a social call, Sparrow," replied Groves.

The pirate's face looked crestfallen but Norrington knew it was just an act. "I see," Sparrow replied. "You've, no doubt come here to get something from _me_ then?"

"What is your connection to Cutler Beckett?" asked Norrington.

"Ah!" his face brightened. "It's _information_ you seek, is it, commodore? But wot's the profit for _me_ if I tell you?"

Norrington folded his arms across his chest. "Your _life_. In Cutler Beckett's hands or in mine," he said flatly.

"Cleary you chose the commodore, Sparrow, otherwise Beckett would've had you in irons by now," added Groves. "You had no interest in the bounty and saw the commodore's presence as a convenient distraction and means to leave Tortuga."

The pirate sighed. "One of you has a conscience. The other does not. It's that simple, mate."

"High praise coming from a _pirate_ ," Norrington replied sardonically.

"I steal and pilfer and you want to 'ang me whereas the likes of Lil' Lord Half Pint can steal, destroy, and _kill_ people, but 'igh society looks th' other way. Not exactly a _fair_ arrangement, is it, James? You don't know Cutler Beckett 'alf as well as you think you do. _You_ see a gentleman, but tell me James, since when do _gentlemen_ commit acts like _this_?" Sparrow took off his tunic revealing several burn marks and brands on his chest.

" _Cutler Beckett_ did that to you?" asked Groves with disgust. Then he remembered the horrifying story that Gillette had told him and Governor Swann about Beckett's exploits at Fort St. George.

Norrington's face went pale. Was he merely using old wounds to play a point or did Beckett really _torture_ the pirate, and if so, why? "Why?" he asked with an uncharacteristically shaken voice. He rebuked himself for letting that uncertainty show.

"Because he wanted information from me regarding an artifact that he cannot be allowed to have."

"Let me guess, Sparrow. This is an artifact that can only be found with your _compass_?" asked Norrington.

"Which your men relieved me of when they gathered my effects last night," acknowledged the pirate. "However, it also requires a pirate possessing a keen intellect who knows the owner of said artifact that said pirate is not revealing. Otherwise said compass will spin in all sorts of directions especially if its possessor is a power seeking megalomaniac called Cutler Beckett."

"So the compass would be a worthless piece of junk to Beckett if he lacks your presence?" asked Groves.

Sparrow nodded. "He'll be sailing all over the Seven Seas on a fruitless search."

"What exactly is this artifact?" asked Norrington.

"Now why would I tell you that, commodore, when clearly I stand to gain nothing?" The metal beads on the pirate's dreads and goatee clinked against the bars of his cell.

"Because you can trust me not to torture you, and, as much as it pains me to say this, I may be able to see that you receive a fair trial," replied Norrington.

Sparrow regarded him carefully. "I 'ave your word on that, sir?"

Norrington looked at him levelly. "You have my word as a gentleman and as a commodore of His Majesty's Royal Navy."

"Very well then," replied Sparrow. "The artifact that Beckett seeks is the heart of Davy Jones."

"The captain of the _Flying Dutchman_?" Norrington asked, incredulously.

"The very same, sir."

Norrington couldn't believe that he was having this conversation. Then again he didn't believe in cursed Aztec gold, undead pirates, and compasses that could point to something far valuable than north until last year. "And what is your association with Davy Jones?" he asked. Was he imagining things or did Sparrow look discomfited when he asked the question?

"We…I made an agreement with him, a rather long-term, binding contract that he will, no doubt, seek to collect."

"No doubt meaning that the _Flying Dutchman_ will arrive here at some point?" asked Norrington.

"Sooner than you think," replied Sparrow.

"Why does Beckett want Jones' heart?" asked Groves.

"Because whoever has the heart controls Jones and the _Dutchman,_ and whoever controls that will rule the Seven Seas. It means the end of piracy and of the Royal Navy in the Caribbean, James, 'cos why would Beckett need the Royal Navy when he has that kind of power?"

Norrington considered Sparrow's point. While he wouldn't mind seeing the end of piracy in the Caribbean he did not deem it wise for Beckett to have that kind of absolute power unchecked. He sighed inwardly. Somehow he knew finding this artifact would not be easy or pleasant, but the lives of innocent civilians were at stake. As a commanding officer of His Majesty's Service he was obliged to protect the subjects of the Crown. "I suppose this means we have to find Davy Jones?" he asked.

Sparrow blinked. "Unfortunately, yes. Jones 'as the key that will unlock the chest that contains 'is 'eart."

Norrington felt his headache worsening. "And the chest isn't aboard the _Flying Dutchman_ , is it?"

"'fraid not, commodore. But, if we combine our keen intellects we can find Jones, get the key, and dispose of the 'eart in no time at all!"

Norrington wasn't going any further with this plan until he could catch up with the _Intrepid_ and talk with Gillette. Right now he had to ensure that Weatherby Swann and the citizens of Port Royal wouldn't become the next victims to Beckett's atrocities. Gillette knew Beckett's mind better than he did and could help him find a way to keep the governor and Port Royal safe.

"Captain Sparrow, I need time to consider what you have just told me."

Sparrow nodded. "Just don't take too long, commodore. I don't think either of us has as much time as we used to, at least if Beckett has his way."

"Come along, lieutenant, and see that the good captain receives a tot of rum for his trouble."

"Yes, sir!" replied Groves.

"I knew you'd warm up to me, James!"

Norrington shot him a withering look and left the brig.

Groves followed him after he instructed the sentry to send rum for Sparrow.

They climbed the companionway stairs to the fresh air of the main deck.

"Do you believe him, sir?" asked Groves.

"Yes and no. Sparrow never gives you the whole truth. Remember how he _forgot_ to mention the undead pirates at Isla de Muerta?"

"An omission that cost us fifty men," replied Groves with disgust. "I won't forget that any time soon."

"Which is why we must proceed with caution, lieutenant. We need to find the _Intrepid_. Gillette's familiarity with Beckett's practices will benefit us greatly."

"Yes, sir," he said as the two officers walked onto the quarterdeck.


End file.
